


The Commons

by Rainah (RainahFiclets)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, Classism, Eliza is just thirsty af, F/M, Gen, Privilege, not super shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 20:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7068994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainahFiclets/pseuds/Rainah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There’s nothing rich folks love more than going downtown and slummin’ it with the poor</i>
  <br/>
  <i>They pull up in their carriages and gawk at the students in the common just to watch them talk</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alexander has a few choice words about what he thinks of their pasttime</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Commons

“Pamphlet?” a voice behind her asked.

“Oh yes please,” Eliza turned, smiling. “Oh! Mr Laurens, correct?” 

He bowed. “At your service. Here spreading the values of democracy.”

There truly was nothing like summer in the city. The very air seemed alive with promise as she walked through the common, hand in hand with her sisters. Angelica had raced ahead, intent on listening to some dramatic speech and dragging Peggy along with her. Eliza, for her part, was willing to linger and enjoy the feel of the city.

So many men around! Passionate, shouting, inflamed by the ideals of revolution. And working too, everywhere she looked there were men about their business. In the heat, many had taken to dressing quite immodestly. Her eyes lingered on the cut of a bare chest, the curve of muscle on an arm, the scandalous thrill of it all.

The man in front of her, however, was far more respectable. Laurens, in his fine coat and breeches, looked just as dapper as he had at her father’s parties. Handsome as well, though she recalled hearing he was already wed. “It is a pleasure, good sir.”

“Are you out and about by yourself miss?” he asked, glancing around until his eyes fell on her sisters. “Not alone then.”

“I have my sisters with me,” and she smiled, so he would not ask where her father was. “Unless _you_ plan to abduct me, I think I’ll be quite safe.”

“I’m not yet a son of liberty,” Laurens laughed, referencing what was arguably the most notorious group in the city. “But I hope to give everyone something to talk about. We need the people to rise up with us if we’re going to be successful.”

“And that’s why you come down here with your speeches and your pamphlets?” she asked, indulging his enthusiasm. 

“Naturally. Here?” He waved an arm to indicate the hustle and bustle of the square. “It’s the closest you can get to your fellow man. It sure beats classes. The revolution is coming for all!”

“The revolution is coming for some,” a voice cut him off, sharp and abrasive. Eliza turned.

He was beautiful. Bedraggled, certainly, but his features could have put Michelangelo to shame. Bright, dark eyes set against cheekbones left prominent from hunger. From the state of his coat and the disrepair of his boots, he was one of the men here to work, not talk.

“The revolution is coming,” Laurens said confidently, offering the man a smile and a handshake. “Surely you see the need.”

“I see the revolution. The need less, and the intended recipients hardly at all.” He shook his head, dark hair threatening to spill free of its confinement. “We will fight, and maybe we’ll win. And the sons of nobility will still come down to shout their ideas among the sons of their servants.”

“Surely,” Eliza entreated, “You can’t mean dear Laurens? He’s been a steadfast friend to the downtrodden, you won’t meet anyone moreso. He advocates ending slavery, equalizing wealth-”

“Where do you live?” the man cut her off. “You, Laurens, where?”

“South Carolina.”

“Son of Henry Laurens?”

“Yes.”

“How many slaves live on your father’s plantation?” He didn’t wait for a reply, instead turning to Eliza. “And you, Miss,”

“-Miss _Schuyler_ ,” she corrected him.

“-Miss Schuyler. Did you lace yourself into that gown? Or did a slave do it? Did a servant bring you up breakfast before you took the carriage downtown?”

She was speechless. Beside her, Laurens seemed much the same, muttering an excuse and taking his leave. They were left alone. Finally, she said, “I can’t help my father’s income.”

“I know that.” He spat the words out, then sighed. “But some of these men, preaching for revolution and the right not to serve a king? They will go home and be served in turn by others. And some of these men will go home to boarding houses and wonder how they’ll feed their children. For some, revolution is a matter of life and death. Of opportunity for advancement, not taxes.” 

“And you are one of them?” she found herself asking.

He smiled. It brightened his eyes even further, sharpened them, and she felt a strange flutter in her stomach. “Naturally.” 

“And you shall fight in this glorious army of the revolution?” She found her way to more solid ground. This, teasing the fiery idealists in the commons? Eliza found it easy by now. Besides, turning the spotlight off herself and onto the handsome stranger made her feel giddy.

He laughed harshly, which ruined her image somewhat. “They seem to offer better terms than the British. I want to be part of something new, and that requires tearing down the old.”

“Then I shall thank you for your service. And… remember what you’ve said. Though I don’t know what you expect men like Mr Laurens to do, if not spread the word of revolution.” _And what you expect me to do, if not watch_.

The stranger softened slightly, giving up his strange battle. “We would be much improved,” he said quietly, “if men of power would take their words to their own kind. These men in the common? They are well aware that they are suffering. They lack the means, not the inclination. And nothing will change for them unless the fathers of the nobility are just as moved as their sons seem to be.”

“Eliza!” It was her sisters, calling her name.

“I see you’ve found some trouble,” Angelica said conversationally. She was also, Eliza noted, eyeing the man with great interest.

Peggy grinned, catching Eliza’s eye. “Well. Burr said you wanted an urchin to give you ideals! He is a lovely specimen.”

The man frowned, already shifting to move away.

“You’ve got him wrong, Peggy,” Eliza head herself said. “This man is quite the hero, and scholar by the words I’ve heard. He plans to be the first soldier joining up in the fight against the king. I’ll expect he’ll be coordinating Washington’s dispatches before the year is through.”

“Oh!” Peggy turned back to the man with new eyes, and he preened ever so slightly under the attention.

Angelica, for her part, looked unconvinced. “And does this soldier have a name?”

He looked up, but it was to Eliza that he spoke. “My name is Alexander Hamilton. There’s a million things I haven’t done, but… just you wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oaxara at 12am: you should write more Eliza fic  
> Me, ever her obedient servant: here you go have some Privilege Discussion
> 
> But seriously, I can't be the only one a little bothered by the fetishizing of the poor revolutionaries by the schuylers and the co-opting by the very wealthy Laurens, Burr and Laf.


End file.
